Middle Ground
by Switchblades and Sunsets
Summary: He never wanted to be a part of the greaser/Soc rivalry. He was only a middle-classer; an innocent bystander; no one special. Not at all a hero. One night, however, everything changed.


**Trying something new for a change. Please tell me what you think. Any and all concrit would be VERY greatly appreciated. :) **

_**"This fic is being posted as part of "Good Fic Day," an effort to raise the quality of writing here. We hope to encourage more writers to improve the quality of their own fan fiction - spell check, grammar check, keep the gang in character, outline, plot and don't use Mary Sues. Good fan fiction requires effort, and we would like to encourage other writers to rise to the challenge of producing better fan fiction, not only for our readers, but for S.E. Hinton, who created the wonderful book we are trying to honour."**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders. And I'm also starting to think that "I don't own the Outsiders" should be an easily accessible key on every Outsiders fanfiction writer's keyboard.**

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My folks were always scolding me for looking into things too deeply.

According to them, our family had enough to deal with without me scrutinizing the lives of others._"Jake! Stop staring at those people and mind your own business!" _was a sentence that I thought had to be ingrained in my mother's brain by now, the number of times she said it.

My family wasn't rich, but they weren't poor either. At least, not as poor as the East side of the neighbourhood. I lived somewhere in between the East side and the West side, slightly closer to the East. Due to this, my parents were always straining themselves to avoid being classified as one of the lower class.

I knew that part of the reason for this was because they didn't want me to turn into one of the greasers, the guys on the rough side of town who were practically hoods. I was almost fourteen now, and learning the ways of our town faster than they were comfortable with.

But they didn't have to worry. I wanted to go somewhere with my life, and joining a gang- a greaser one at that- would only make everything a lot more complicated than was necessary.

So I wasn't one of them. And nor was I a Soc. I just watched them quietly from the sidelines, watched and learned. Being a bystander was something I was comfortable with, something I was used to. It taught me more than any textbook ever did, or would.

It rebounded on me though, the silent watching, I mean, on a day just like any other.

XXX

"C'mon, Jake!"

"Yeah, man, it'll be totally awesome! You'd gotta be outta your mind to miss it."

I shook my head, not regretting my choice.

"You guys go ahead. I'm not in the mood today. Way too tired from that killer track meet." I yawned for emphasis, which wasn't hard, considering I really was just about asleep on my feet.

Matt shrugged, muttered, "Your loss," and drove off with a carload of people to what was speculated to be the biggest drag race of the month.

I walked toward the direction of home slowly, wishing vaguely I'd remembered to ask for a ride. I hated walking, which was strange when you considered the fact that I loved running, and was on the track team.

Finding a pay phone on the side of a road, I dialled my home phone number, hoping my parents were home but not really expecting it. It was Friday, and they were probably out doing who-knows-what. I guess I'd just have to deal with walking.

Walking down the busy street half-dazed, my mind wandered.

Tulsa this time of day was pretty busy, with people doing stuff every way you looked. A mother was coaxing a crying child, promising him candy, toys, and everything under the sun to get it to quiet down. And the kid would forget about the mom's promises within an hour. Kids had really short term memory.

Around the school was the only place where you could easily find any of the social classes, and not just one of them. Greasers, Socs, and middle class kids like me were all hanging around in their tightly knit little groups, staying away from anyone not in their class like first grade girls stayed away from the boys because they had "cooties".

If you asked me, the way these gangs acted was just as childish, too.

Once in a while, a tiny stitch in one of the groups- almost always either the greasers or the Socs; the middle-classers were pretty peaceable compared to the two gangs- would seem to break, and curses would be shouted out, some shoving would occur. And two minutes later, everything would be back to the "you don't hurt me, I won't hurt you" atmosphere.

So you see, I wasn't considered "observant" for nothing. Watching people was one of my biggest interests. I wanted to be a psychologist when I got older; figure out why people did the things they did. Strangely, I seemed to focus on these things more when I was tired than when my mind was alert.

It was a good day for people-watching, I thought. If only I was just a little less sleepy. I walked a while longer, before deciding to take a break.

I sat down underneath the canopy of two shady elm trees around the edges of some random park where I could see, but not be easily seen, and relaxed, closing my eyes. Walking home could wait. Nobody would know the difference anyway. My older brother and sister were both at the races...

The clouds shifted a bit, and some of that crisp autumn sunlight seeped through the cracks of the trees.

I yawned, getting into a more comfortable position. The buzz of conversations around me were like a lullaby, and I fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.

XXX

The sound of an alarmingly loud car horn woke me with a start, and I realized it was already pure dark out. No one was around anymore... except whoever it was that woke me up. What kind of person blasted their horn in the dead of the night?

I sat up slowly, groaning a little and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. After they had adjusted to the almost total darkness, I could make out a blue Mustang taking its time to circle the park.

After that very long sleep, my mind was cleared up, and I recognised this as the park on the East side. What was a _Mustang_ doing so far east?

I looked around, trying to find whoever it was the Socs wanted, because they wouldn't just come to this place in the middle of the night for no reason. There had to be other people around, most likely a couple of lone greasers who offended the other group in one way or another.

One thing was certain: This night could _not_ end well.

Finally, I spotted two boys who were about my age sitting on the fountain. By the way they were fidgeting up a storm, I could tell they knew what was coming too.

The blue Mustang finally stopped, and five Socs staggered out, heading towards the two boys by the fountain. When they passed what was now, I guess, my hiding spot, they brought along with them a wave of the stink of alcohol. It was so bad that I held my breath until they passed.

I watched from the safety of the tall elm trees as the group of drunk Socs surrounded the greasers around the fountain. One of them spoke, but I was just a little too far away to hear his exact words.

Even when the inevitable fight began, it never even crossed my mind to help out the unlucky greasers. I was too used to simply watching, and that was just what I did as one of the Socs shoved the slightly younger looking greaser's head into the fountain water.

It was only when the greaser's struggles started to become weaker did I start to feel sorry for them. But the feeling wasn't strong enough to risk exposing myself to the Socs... they were a lot bigger than me.

I just kept watching. I didn't intervene, didn't do a thing at all to stop what would happen next. I was a bystander that never existed, not really. Even when the black-haired greaser pulled out a switchblade and stabbed the Soc holding his friend underwater deep in the back, I just crouched there, nothing but a shadow to them and worth even less.

Only watching.

When the greaser stabbed the Soc, his friends ran. Their companion was hurt badly, would die, even, but only one of them looked back. I'd never forget the last look the dying Soc gave his friends- hate, regret, emotional pain, hurt, shock, fear, helplessness, and betrayal... they were all there, and more.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing for the gruesome scene to go away, just go away. Pulling my knees up and hugging them tightly, I rocked back and forth on the ground where I was, wishing I was back home; at school; still asleep. Anywhere but here.

I didn't want to be a bystander anymore...

I don't know how long I just stayed there, trying to pretend everything was just some bizarre dream my mind had come up with. It couldn't be true... It just couldn't be. I started to feel freezing cold, inside and out.

Teeth chattering violently, I opened my eyes. Horrible as it may be, I had to know what happened.

A body was lying beside the fountain, not moving. And that's when I fully realized I'd just witnessed a murder. An actual _murder_.

And you know the worst part? Now that I had time to think about it, I thought I recognised the face of one of the greasers, the one who was almost drowned.

Unless I'd mistaken completely... He was in my track team, one of the fastest runners in the school. Definitely one of the quieter greasers. And from what I've heard, he was also smart as heck and never bragged about it.

Ponyboy Curtis.

XXX

I don't know how I managed the walk back home. I guess that without realizing it, I'd already covered most of the distance in my half-asleep mode from after school.

When I walked in the door of my house, utterly shell-shocked, my whole family was up. Even Stacy and Matt. A whirlwind of repeated explanations, disbelief, and "I promise, really, I'm fine!"s later, they called the police and told them everything. Except the fact that I was a witness. They made the call anonymous, and for that I was grateful.

XXX

The next day, all the bits of information had been connected and put into the front page of the local newspaper. I didn't bother to read it. I didn't want to relive the scene any more times than necessary. It was already etched into my long-term memory anyway, so what was the point?

Ponyboy Curtis and Johnny Cade weren't at school the following Monday. They'd run away, left the town of Tulsa, practically disappeared into thin air. Everyone talked about the murder, and the two greasers who were just part of the background a few days ago turned into celebrities.

All I could think about was that I could have prevented it. All of it. The chance was slim, but it was definitely there. I had the element of surprise; I could've stopped it if I really tried.

But I only knew how to observe, I didn't have any idea what to do when it came to taking action. I was sick of it. Sick of not being able to do anything, sick of my helplessness, sick of the fact that I was nothing but a coward.

There had to be something I could do. And I was willing to do anything to, even if it meant losing everything I was familiar with.

I had to make a difference somehow. Being a bystander to the action just wasn't enough anymore. Watching just wasn't enough.

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Well, there you are. My first try at a fic from an OMC perspective. Review please!

**Happy Good Fic Day everyone! :)**


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